


Enter Stage Left, Exit- What Exit?

by Living_Free



Series: Slip and Slide [26]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily, Cass being clever, Crack, Duke being bewildered, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Jason Todd is a Gotham cryptid, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Tim Drake in college, Tim and Damian get along, Tim in a slinky dress, batbros, introducing good boi duke thomas, kind of an open secret, re-introducing mother!grayson, tim drake is a good bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 16:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_Free/pseuds/Living_Free
Summary: Duke makes his grand entrance.Damian is very talented.Dick and Jason have a moment,and Tim is of a rather sexy temperament.





	Enter Stage Left, Exit- What Exit?

When Damian announced that he was bringing a peer over from college, Bruce could hardly believe his ears. Damian didn't make friends. Damian made threats, and fulfilled them. 

Dick, predictably, had gone out of his mind, and was currently in the kitchen baking up treats for Dami and his little friend. 

The situation had intrigued Jason and Tim, so much so that they made a point to be home to watch the spectacle. 

When asked what she thought, Cass replied that Duke was a nice guy. Then the world stopped. 

"You know this boy?" Bruce asked. 

"Yes."

"How?"

"Took Damian to college. He had art class. Teacher asked me to model-"

Here, Bruce turned purple with rage, and Dick dashed over at the speed of light with Bruce's hypertension medicine and some handy sedatives and shoved them into his father's mouth. When Bruce's plum coloration did not disspiate immediately, Dick applied a worried kiss to his forehead. "Don't die on me, Bruce!"

Magically, Bruce's rage and he mellowed out. Tim stared. He would have to do more research to see if Dick could actively use his latent magical aura of fluff and cotton candy magic. 

"-I kept clothes on," Cass continued. "Met Damian's friend. He asked if he could paint me for his final project. I said yes."

"What is this 'friend' like?" Bruce asked. 

Cass shrugged. "Human."

"Elaborate, please."

Cassandra pondered. "Polite."

Tim intervened. "On a scale of Hal Jordan to Clark, what is he?"  
Cassandra pondered. "Hmm. Between Clark and Diana."

"Wow," Tm said, impressed. "That's high praise."

"Wait, wait, what's the rating scale?" Jason butted in. 

"It's a rating sacle that I designed for Cass. Since she has trouble finding words, she uses previously established relationships with regard to her to judge others."

"Where am I on this scale?" Jason asked. "I'm better than Bruce, right?"

"Don't rate family," Cass replied. "Family is all on the same level. No one less or more."

"It's a Justice League scale," Tim replied. "It goes from best to worst - Clark first, followed by Diana, Barry, J'onn, Shayera, Etrigan, Green Arrow, and last, Hal Jordan."

Bruce grinned and put a proud arm around Tim, squishing his son into his thick, meaty, side. He was a proud dad to a clever, ruthless, fay, billionaire baby boy.

"Our assignment is to master the painting of the opposite sex," Damian sniffed. "Thomas - Duke, that is - has already asked Cain to be his model. Therefore I am left-"

"With Stephanie?"

"I would not paint Fatgirl even if the prevention of Armageddon depended on it!" Damian shrieked. "No, I am going to paint Drake. Drake," Damian said, "will you model for me in one of your feminine outfits?"

'Do I get to pick which outfit?" Tim asked slyly. 

"Yes. Make it look regal." 

"Done," Tim said, shaking Damian's hand, and then ran upstairs.

Bruce sighed. "Why do you all encourage him?"

"Timmy deserves to express himself, Bruce," Dick said reasonably. "Now run along, don;t clutter up the kitchen, I have cookies to bake for Dami and his little friend!"

"Thomas is eighteen," Damian said. "He is older than Drake, even, and quite tall."

"Tiny Dami Friend!"

"Ugh."

Damian hitched a ride out on Jason's shoulders as Dick happily brought out the heart shaped cookie cutters, and Alfred appeared out of thin air to critique Dick's baking, saying things like, "a touch more flour, perhaps, Master Richard," and "a higher ratio of brown sugar to white, Master Richard."

One of his grandchildren was actually cooking, and Alfred needed to pass on his cookbook to someone. 

***

At noon, the doorbell rang, and Duke Thomas had his first look at the inside of Wayne Manor. "Hi," he said politely, and handed Cass a selection of flowers. "I'm not attracted to you," he said by way of explanation, "but I couldn't think of what else to get someone so uber rich."

"They are nice," Cass said, with a genuine smile. "Daddy, meet Duke," Cass said. 

Suddenly, Duke felt a chill run down his spine, as he turned to come face to face with the man, the legend, Bruce Wayne himself. "Er. Hello, sir," Duke tried. 

Bruce continued to glare. 

"Don't mind Bruce," Jason said, coming in with the groceries, "he's like that to anyone that looks at Cass. You should see what he's like to Stephanie, and he's actually fond of her."

"Perish the thought," Bruce grumbled, before turning back to Duke. "How do you know Damian, Mr. Thomas?"

Duke, who had never been called Mr. anything, startled. "Um, I met him because of our locker placements. The college assigned Damian a top locker, and he couldn't reach, so I offered to switch with him. We also have art classes together, and he insisted that my shade of blue was not the precise 'Grayson Blue' that I needed for the sky. I don't even know what that-"

"Hi, you must be Duke! Have a cookie!" Dick trilled, popping up next to Duke. 

Duke turned, met Dick's eyes, and proceeded to drown in the limpid pools of uniquely bright blue, sparkling with warmth, and kindness, and something just...magical. Oh, so this was what Damian was talking about. 

Duke was jarred out of his trance by an unkind prod to the side of his head. "Hey, peabrain, he's married," Jason said. 

"Oh, er, I'm not attracted to you," Duke said to Dick. "Any of you, really, but I'm sure that a person so inclined will find you...er, aesthetically pleasing."

Jason nodded approvingly. "Good. When in Wayne Manor, you will have all the sexual urges of a sea sponge."

"I usually do," Duke assured him. "It won't be a problem. Also, who are you again? I feel like I've seen you around campus."

"I'm Mason Podd," Jason lied easily. "I'm Alfie the butler's grandson. I was raised with the Wayne boys."

Duke, a Gothamite who was well versed in the urban myth of Jason Todd, second son of Bruce Wayne who was most definitely dead-but-still-somehow-not-dead-but-didn't-want-to-admit-it-for-whatever-reason, decided that the man in front of him was a liar and actually Jason Todd, and was also a poltergeist maybe.

Duke nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Mason." He wasn't a Gothamite for nothing. 

Dick took the second of diversion to stuff a cookie into Duke's mouth. 

Just then, Damian sailed in, complete with easel and beret. "Ah, Thomas you have arrived! And Cain is ready, good. Let us go and set up in the sitting room - my muse is already in position."

Everyone went into the sitting room, where they were greeted to the sight of Tim, wearing a slinky, dark green satin gown with a sneaky slit paired with gold jewelry, bright red lips, and vicious black high heels. A dark stole adorned his ivory arms as he reclined languidly on the sofa by the fireplace. 

He was enjoying himself, humming quietly and no doubt think of the ways Kon could ravish him. As he looked up, however, a look of panic stole into his glassy, pale, eyes, and he screamed, not having expected his entire family to walk in on his little moment, complete with his leg poking seductively out of his dress.

Bruce sprang into action and covered Duke's eyes, and then his own. "Timothy Wayne, what have I told you about slits above the knee!"  
"It matters not!" Damian declared archly. "Thomas and I have to paint! Everyone leave!" He cried, even as he slunk closer to Dick.

Bruce happily left, dragging Jason and Dick with him, but not before Dick placed another love-filled kiss to Damian's head, leaving the boy very smug indeed. 

Bruce made a show of closing the door, but in reality, lurked like the lurker that he was, spying on Damian and Duke's interactions. "You'll want a bit of grey in that," Duke said to Damian, pointing to the pale blue that Damian had mixed up to colour in Tim's eyes. "It'll lend it that stormy colour that your muse has."

"Are you really Damian's friend?" Tim asked.

"Er...yes?"

Damian beamed.

"Cool beans. I'm Tim." 

"I know," Duke said. The rumors that Tim Drake-Wayne had joined Gotham University had swirled around the campus for months. He had become a university cryptid, with various people claiming that they had spotted him in the cafeteria, or the library, or in the loo.

In truth, Tim just blended in, wearing a ratty hoodie that belonged to Jason, and a pair of too tight skinny jeans and some ankle boots. His hood was always up, and his face hidden behind the tumbler of coffee that was forever at his lips. Even his classmates didn't know who he truly was - he was just that guy who slept in the back of the class, but still had the highest marks come exam time. 

Duke was fairly certain that he had used the urinal next to the one Tim had been using once. It was a surreal experience. 

But Duke did not say this, because he was a Gothamite. Instead, he said, "Nice to meet you. I'm a big fan of your philanthrophy. And your leg. It's got character."

"He's got a boyfriend!" Jason yelled through the door.

"I'm not hitting on him!" Duke hollered back. 

"Good!"

"Pay attention, you fools, the paint is drying!" Damian cried, frantically mixing in more white and beige to get Tim's pallid skin tone right.

Soon, they were done, and Dick came swinging in with some lemonade and carrot sticks with hummus. Seeing the paintings, he gasped. "Oh, Dami! You've meneged to capture Tim's likeness so well! And Duke, your work is a masterpiece! Here, have some lemonade!"

Duke accepted the drink and watched Dick fuss over Damian, wiping streaks of paint from the younger boy's squirming face, while Jas- no, Mason made silen silent retching motions onto Tim's head, which was captured in a headlock.

Coming in, he hadn't known what to expect from the illustrious Wayne family. Damian was alright, a talented artist and an overall kind child, putting up signs that encouraged the feeding of birds all over campus. 

Dick Grayson was a legend - a beautiful acrobat, socialite, former police officer turned crime reporter, and apparently, Damian's mom.

Jason Todd was supposed to be dead, but whatever. He was buff, and tough, and kind of funny, hen he wasn't threatening Duke. 

Cassandra Cain, prima ballerina for the Gotham Ballet Company, was every bit the regal princess that her father insisted that she was, but so much more. She was calm, poised, and possesed a wit so dry that it could dehydrate you.

And Tim. His leg. His brains. His moolah. His coffee. It was overwhelming, meeting the legend that kept Gotham alive. 

And yet, they were all so normal, Duke marveled. Just a family, doing family things. 

And Jason Todd was a poltergeist, Duke was 98% sure. 

But then again, this was Gotham, and you learned to take the rough with the smooth. 

Bruce sauntered into the room to check up on them, and his eyes fell on the art. He spent a solid minute staring at the paintings before clearing his throat.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Do call the portrait framer. We shall have to hang these paintings in the manor hall."

"At once, sir," Alfred said, and smiled kindly at Duke. "Kindly unclench, Master Thomas. Master Bruce rather approves of you."

"Oh," Duke said, relaxing sphincters that he hadn't even realized he had tensed up. 

Bruce then turned to talk to Damian, and suddenly, Duke found himself being whisked away to parts unknown. Feeling disoriented, he looked around to see the three Wayne brothers (sans Damian) staring at him. "Er...can I help you?"

"Okay, Dukey boy, you've passed the Cass Test, so it seems that you're alright," Jason said, leaning casually against the wall. 

"You were vetting me? As Damian's friend?"

"You have to understand," Dick said, "that Dami is our baby-"

"Your baby, not ours, don't lump us into this," Jason interjected, pointing between himself and Tim, who was nodding along. 

"Well, fine. It's just...Damian hasn't had an ideal life before he came to us, and he's a little tetchy at times-"

"He's like a sea urchin. Spiny and whiny," Jason elaborated.

"-stop it, Jay! Anyway, we're protective of him, and we don't want him to be hurt anymore."

"Someone hurt Damian?" Duke asked quietly.

There was silence. Too many peopple to count. Dick cleared his throat. "Yes." He took a deep breath. "So you understand why we're asking you to please, please be good to him. He's such a swell kid, and you're so sweet with him-"

"If you hurt him, I'll reach down your throat and pull out your intestines and then tie you to a tree with your own entrails, got it, artist boy?"

"Jason, be nice!"

"Screw nice! You make him cry even one tear, Thomas, and I'll put my foot so far up your ass-"

"What Jason is trying to say, is-"

"So this is Jason?" 

Silence fell in the hallway. "N-no," Dick stuttered, "he's Mason. Mason Podd. Mason Deiter Podd. It's just- Jay was my little brother, and sometimes, they're so alike, so it just slips out, and I can't help it, and-"

"Um."

"-sometimes, I can feel his presence around me," Dick insisted, his eyes wide, lying through his perfect teeth, while Tim nodded fervently. "Like a warm hug, urging me to give my family the love I can't give him now. And his name just slips out in those moments, because I feel him so deeply-"

"Whoa, watch your wording, Dickie-" Jason flinched. 

"-and I miss him everyday, and I love him so much, my little Jaybird."

Somewhere in the speech, Dick had gotten properly emotional. There was a story there, Jason was sure of it. But that was for another time.

Tim cleared his throat. "Mason, threaten Duke some more about his colon."

"Oh, yeah!" Jason said enthusiastically. "I'll punch a hole straight through your sternum-"

"I get it," Duke said quickly. "You'll pull out my intestines and-"

"Eat them-"

"-oh gross," Duke whined. "But still, I get it. I'm never going to hurt Damian. Who would hurt Damian? He's a little kid! And he's so smart, and kind! Did you know that he put a miniature fence around an anthill so no one would step on it?"

(Actually, it was to impale the foot of anyone who dared to step on it, but Duke was having a moment, so I'll let him continue.)

"He's hecking smart too," Duke went on. "I mean, he's eleven years old, and he knows more stuff than some of the professors! And besides," he said, looking at Dick, "I have little brothers. I know how you feel. Damian is just like them to me."

Dick simpered. "I knew you were a sweet guy," he said, his previous intimidating demeanour evaporating. "I'll get some more lemonade," he said, and bounced his perfectly pert arse down the hall. 

Tim and Jason walked Duke back to the main hall, chatting amicably and pointing out various Wayne ancestor's portraits and detailing their causes of death. Damian hadn't noticed anyting amiss, and was putting his finishing touches on his painting of Tim while chatting with Bruce. Duke took his seat again, and in a moment of madness, patted Damian's head. 

For a second, there was nothing, and Duke sweated. Then, Damian smiled like a frog that had just caught a fly, content and smug, and they knew that things were going to be alright. 

Better, even. 

All too soon, it was time for Duke to leave. He said his goodbyes to everyone, packed up his painting, and walked to the door. Suddenly, he stopped, and turned. 

"What's up?" Jason asked. 

Carefully, Duke looked at him. "I just gotta...try something." Slowly, he reached forward and poked Jason's shoulder before backing away quickly. A solid poltergeist! This one must be exceptionally powerful.

As Duke ran off, leaving behind a bewildered Jason in his wake, he made a note to himself to burn some sage tonight. 

Just in case.


End file.
